It's Such A Pretty World Today
by chunni
Summary: Jesse is lost. Walt is all too ready to find him. (Picks up at s02e04, crossposted from AO3)


**It's Such A Pretty World Today**

Most of the mirror's surface was fogged even though a few sparkling beads of water were gathering in the right bottom corner, running down, falling.

_Drop, drop, drop_.

Jesse had to resist the urge to press the towel around his shoulders against the spot to stop that damn noise. That noise, quiet like the wind and yet much too loud in the silence of this room, this house that didn't belong to him. That he shouldn't have ever seen from the inside.

Mr. White's house.

His eyes narrowed as he kept looking at the distorted mess of naked skin and blondish hair that was his reflection. In ten, maybe twenty minutes, after the mirror had freed itself from the water's embrace, he might even be able to recognise himself. (If he were to stay so long, that was.)

Though, who was he anyway? What was left to recognise after he had lost so much? How could he look into his own eyes again and not see failure?

(When had he ever seen anything else?)

The water of the shower had been hot enough to colour his skin an ugly red, hot enough to erase that lingering scent of shit and sweat and hopelessness. Or so he hoped.

Now, though, he couldn't help but shiver, shiver and grimace and try not to let crushing shame eat his confidence away. It was ridiculous, this situation, being here, this fucking strike of bad luck he just couldn't escape recently. If there was a God, he must be really hating him. Like, the _if I had to shoot you or the dog, I'd aim for your stomach to make you suffer _kind of hating.

Jesse rubbed his face with a slight groan, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

He really could have done without having to run to Mr. White to beg for money while drenched in shit, thank you very much. Actually, he would have preferred to never talk to or see him again. That greedy, old, miserable son of a bitch, always coming at him for the dumbest shit as if he got nothing better to do.

_As if I don't have enough problems already!_ Jesse clenched his teeth, blinking just a bit too hastily (but he wouldn't cry, not now, not here, no). _Fuck you! I don't need you! I didn't want to work with you in the first place! _

And yet...

Mr. White did give him permission to shower, was making him breakfast and even got some clothes for him to wear.

"_I used to wear those when I was about your age. Looking at you, they're probably still too big but-"_

"_Seriously? You wore this? How come you even have a kid? Your wife must have been blind, yo. Poor chick."_

"_Oh yes, Jesse, I bet what you're wearing now is so much more comfortable. Sorry for thinking you would want not to smell like a living dumpster."_

"_... yeah, about that... I actually love that shade of green, like, totally what I would buy for myself, for sure."_

Pushing that memory out of his mind, Jesse picked up the shirt with his index finger and thumb trying not to frown at the little pine trees covering its fabric. He pursed his lips, nostrils quivering as he breathed in, inhaling the faint scent of washing powder and Mr. White's aftershave.

A moment passed, and perhaps there was even the ticking of a clock, soft, distant, dragging his mind to the past, to a similar ticking, a similar clock, its hands creeping ever so slowly towards the end of yet another snoozefest of a lesson.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Don't be such a pussy," Jesse muttered to himself before pulling the shirt over his head. He would throw it away as soon as he got the money and some new clothes (and hopefully some stability in his life).

A quiet part of him was wondering why he even knew that it was _his_ aftershave.

Walt knew that Jesse wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to park that damn RV just around the corner and come asking for money that did _not_ belong to him.

He wasn't supposed to look at him with that trembling gaze out of baby blue eyes with long lashes, eyes that were much too beautiful for such an irritatingly insolent brat. Eyes that had been filled with shadows like grey rain threatening to overflow and Walt wouldn't have been surprised to see actual tears roll down Jesse's pale cheeks. It hadn't happened, though.

How could he stay angry at him when that gaze quelled any flame of wrath? How could his heart not ache as if being squeezed together? How could he not try to help? At least a bit?

Jesse shouldn't sit where his wife and son had been sitting just a few hours ago, he wasn't part of this family, of this home, and yet he did and Walt couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through his body because it did feel right, in an odd, twisted way. His son might be ashamed of him, his wife might be hating him right now, but Jesse's eyes brightened at seeing the plate of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches and perhaps Skyler and Junior weren't the only ones needing him.

Jesse didn't say anything while eating, eyes stubbornly fixed on the surface of the table in an obvious attempt not to catch Walt's gaze, and perhaps that was what made it all the more attractive to look at him.

It was oddly fascinating to watch those drops of water that had yet to evaporate, that were still clinging to Jesse's hair like shining pearls beneath the lamplight. Every now and then a drop or two would loosen to run down his neck and disappear beneath the shirt, almost calling for Walt to reach out and wipe them away.

However, he mustn't do that. Jesse might not be his student anymore but he was still far too young. And far too beautiful. Not wearing his usual ten or so layers of clothing, it was even more obvious just how young he was, how thin, with his slim waist and small hands that would be so easy to grasp, to enclose with his own.

Walt blinked, slowly, but Jesse didn't disappear and those thoughts he shouldn't have didn't disappear either. The ring at his left hand seemed to burn right through his skin.

"_What, that I'm having an affair? Is that it? Is that what you think?"_

"Could you, eh, stop staring at me? You're creeping me out, man," Jesse mumbled, cheeks coloured an adorable pink as he pursed his lips and finally met Walt's gaze.

"You should eat more," Walt replied, deliberately ignoring the remark. "I don't think I've ever seen someone wolf down three sandwiches in such a short amount of time."

"How?! I.. I told you, my folks kicked me out," Jesse ground out, jaw working as if he were trying to bite through a piece of metal. "Not that I care! Let them have that dumbass house, must be haunted anyway..."

Tension sank into the air around them as soon as the silence took over again. There were words itching to be spoken, the urge to say something making Walt's skin prickle, but his mind was empty. What could he even say?

_I'm sorry, it'll get better_ as if they were friends?

They weren't friends, not in the traditional sense of the word at least, and it wouldn't even be true. Walt wasn't sorry and he was no hopeless optimist.

It was Jesse's own fault, wasn't it? Jesse who got himself into trouble more often than not, Jesse who took everyone else with him down, Jesse who got high instead of looking for a job, Jesse who was sitting at _his_ table in _his_ home with eyes drowning in despair and shadows twisting his face.

Walt could see his Adam's apple jump as Jesse swallowed hard as if trying to hold back tears and it might have been even worse than watching Skyler leave without explanation.

"Anyways, eh, thanks for the food and all, Mr. White. I'm..." A sigh, maybe a groan. "...not having the best of days, I guess, and, well..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jesse froze, looking at him as if he had grown a second pair of arms, and to be honest Walt wasn't so sure himself if it had been the right thing to say.

"I mean, it's supposed to help, isn't it? Talking about your problems."

"Yeah? How did your wife like the story of her husband getting kidnapped by a lunatic drug dealer to cook meth in Mexico? Or the one where he faked having amnesia? Or what about-"

Walt reached over to press a hand against Jesse's mouth, a headache pounding at his temple.

"Shut up!," he snapped, not even caring about the way Jesse's gaze flickered across his face as he leaned in, just barely brushing Jesse's legs with his knees. "Not like that. Do _not_ mention that _ever_ again. You know very well what I'm talking about."

He was oddly aware of Jesse's lips grazing his palm, the warm breath making his skin tingle in a way that wasn't at all unpleasant.

Jesse should have turned his head away, a snarky comment ready, maybe stumbling away from the chair, but he didn't move and perhaps that was only because he was too stunned to do so. Perhaps also because he couldn't bring himself to care. That idea was even more terrifying.

Walt sighed and pulled his hand away.

"Look, you're not stupid. Give it a few days, I'm sure you'll be all right."

Jesse frowned, lines in his face that shouldn't be there, then sighed with a low voice. He put his elbows on the table to bury his face in his hands for just a bit too long, shoulders slumped together. Walt had to resist the urge to reach over, to give his upper arm a squeeze, to maybe, just maybe, follow the line of his back with dancing fingertips and-

"Try having all your things stolen...," Jesse muttered, sounding as if he were choking on the words. "Try having parents that only love your younger _oh so perfect_ brother, that despise you as if you were nothing more than the dirt they walk on... I _hate_ it. I fucking hate my life! And I j-just... I d-don't know what to _do_, Mr. White. I d-d-don't..."

Jesse's hands slid from his face to reveal watery eyes and a shiny trail of tears running down his left cheek. He hurried to wipe it away with trembling fingers, blinking rapidly, but the sobbing didn't stop despite obvious efforts to force it away.

Walt couldn't stand by and watch him cry without doing anything. There was something tugging at his chest, drawing him forward, and he couldn't withstand the pull anymore.

Hesitantly as if he could burn himself Walt let his knuckles brush against Jesse's arm, moving just like he would approach a feral cat. Holding his breath, he opened his hand to let it rest against the nape of Jesse's neck, the skin smooth and warm under his fingers. His muscles were tensed as if in preparation for an upcoming blow but Jesse didn't flinch, or recoil from the touch, or try to slap the hand away. There certainly was a sense of accomplishment in that.

When Walt began to draw light circles on Jesse's skin, forcing himself to slow down not to scare him, he felt him shivering, just barely leaning into the touch. Perhaps Jesse wasn't even aware of those physical responses but to Walt they were enough.

It was easy, then, to gently push against his back, to pull him closer one inch at a time until Jesse's shaking body was lying in his arms, chin digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"Jesse, son, it's alright...," Walt murmured against the tousled strands of dark blond hair. There was a small smile on his face, not intended for anyone but himself, and a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, only spreading as Jesse began to return the embrace, clinging to him as if he were in the midst of a hurricane and scared to lose the ground beneath his feet.

It felt good to hold him, better than it had any right to feel, better than Walt would dare to admit. It felt even better to know that Jesse had come to _him_ for help, that he _needed_ him. He would laugh and scream and curse him but, at the end of the day, he would return. He would stay.

They were partners, weren't they?

Jesse wasn't sobbing anymore, only taking deep, shuddering breaths, trembling as if fighting a fever. He was still pressed close to his chest, though, rather sitting on his lap than on the chair now, and Walt very much liked to keep him there. It felt right. It _was_ right. Jesse was seeing it too, wasn't he?

When Walt tilted his head to let his lips brush against Jesse's forehead, there was a thrill running through his body that he hadn't experienced in quite a while, the thrill of danger and risk and arousal, and he knew that it was worth it.

It was only when he raised his left hand to let it rest against the side of Jesse's head, lifting it off his chest, thumb grazing the line of his jaw, that Jesse froze.

"Mr. White?," he murmured, voice husky from crying, low as if he were talking from the bottom of a well, and it wasn't really fair to do this now, was it? "Yo, wha-?"

The word transformed into a stifled gasp when Walt pressed their lips together, the only noise his own screaming heartbeat. Despite not quite opening his mouth, he could taste the salt of recent tears, barely masquerading the signs of too many cigarettes, and it didn't taste _good_ but it was intoxicating, nevertheless, and terribly fitting too.

Smoking was dangerous, unhealthy and addictive, and being with Jesse was very much the same. Something he shouldn't do and yet couldn't stop doing, a one-way road with no return. Though, could it be truly bad if it felt that good?

He drunk in the way Jesse melted against him for that second of paralysed confusion, the way he followed every slight nudge and motion as if a part of him had only been waiting for guidance. Kissing him was like drowning but Walt didn't really mind dying if it was like this.

It took Jesse longer than expected to turn his head away, to push against Walt's chest, trying to back off. He would have fallen to the floor if it hadn't been for the hand at his shoulder holding him back, its grip just a bit too firm. But it was necessary, for the greater good, for _Jesse's_ good, wasn't it?

Jesse's breathing had sped up again, eyes wide and too full of emotions to decipher, but he had always been an enigma, different than the other students and much more interesting at that. Face reddening by the minute, his mouth fell open, undoubtedly to say something. There were no words, though, just silence and Jesse's trembling lips and narrowed eyes and hands clenched to fists. He didn't try to run away. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

"Do you want to say anything, Jesse?"

Hand wandering to the crook of his neck, Walt could feel him swallowing, shivering slightly. He could see the tip of his tongue as Jesse wet his lips, a colour like roses, and it was so very hard not to lean in and keep kissing them.

"The fuck, Mr. White?!," Jesse snarled. It would have been more convincing if his voice hadn't shaken, hoarse as if he had only woken up just now. "I ain't gay and if I were I wouldn't be into miserable, old pricks, _fuck off._"

"I'm sorry but I don't believe you."

"You don't-?!"

"You came to me, Jesse. You said it yourself, you need my help. You need me. Why else be here?"

He reached out to cup Jesse's cheek, thumb following the curve of his lips with feather-like touches, and Jesse's gaze flickered downwards, eyelids fluttering halfway shut as if they were too heavy to stay open. He wasn't resisting. "You like that, don't you?"

"... I... do-don't..."

A groan, oddly breathless, exhausted. Out of the corners of his eyes Walt could see Jesse's hands fall open, losing their tension. It was easy to take the right one, intertwining their fingers in a fluent motion, pulling him only a few inches closer. Jesse probably didn't even notice it, eyes more closed than open, brows contracted as if in deep thought. As if he couldn't decide if those thoughts were positive or negative ones.

His hand was almost painfully cold, the skin like frozen windows. Though, it was also soft and unscarred by whatever horrors his future life would put him through, without the calluses and wrinkles that were marking Walt. He didn't quite reciprocate the touch, fingers barely more than loose limbs of a puppet, but he didn't pull away either.

Walt leaned forward until he could feel Jesse's warm yet unsteady breath on his lips, until their noses almost met, and the air was buzzing as if they were standing outside, waiting for the approaching storm to hit. Jesse exhaled for a long time, and perhaps it really was a sigh. It took a while but Walt felt his hand moving, fingers curling to deepen the touch, and he allowed himself to smile.

He didn't even need to say anything. When he pressed his index finger against Jesse's cheek, Jesse tilted his head, only slightly but enough to give better access, and who was Walt to refuse such an offer?

The kiss was long and deep, the devil's promise of salvation, and Jesse opened his mouth so willingly, pressed himself closer so willingly. It was a thing of beauty.

_You need this_, Walt thought, heat swallowing his mind and body. _You need me_.

He grasped Jesse's upper legs to pull him entirely on his lap and he could hear Jesse gasp, the sound strangled and so very hot, when he felt what must be his fully hard erection. It was hard not to rip Jesse's clothes off his body and take him right then and now, and a part of Walt, dark and deep inside him, wished he had already done it a long time ago. How beautiful would Jesse have looked sprawled upon the teacher's desk at school, pants down and begging to be fucked?

Biting back a groan, Walt sought Jesse's lips to continue the kiss, fingers running upwards to cup his ass, giving it a light squeeze. Soon he was relishing the throaty moans escaping Jesse's mouth whenever he gave him time to breathe. Soon Jesse was grinding against him all by himself, hands clutching his sides. How could Walt not want him?

He loosened the kiss, grabbed Jesse's chin to make him look up.

"You didn't like that shirt anyway, did you? Take it off, Jesse."

Clouded, unseeing eyes, eyes staring at him out of a dream, struggled to focus, pleasure readable in all his features. Jesse nodded, slowly, jerkily, blinking, trembling hands hurrying to do as Walt had told him. There was a soft blush tinting his cheeks by the time his upper body was free of clothes, jaw tense and gaze flickering away, avoiding Walt's eyes again.

That wouldn't do.

"Look at me, Jesse," he whispered, the name a growl back in his throat. How often had he yelled that name with anger and frustration and disappointment? Now there was a different kind of fire. He could feel Jesse shiver all over, could see his nipples harden at the touch of the cool air, surrounded by lines of curly blond hair, and it was enough to make him pause in awe. Jesse's hesitant eyes glanced into his direction and whatever they found made him swallow hard.

Walt let his head dip down, planting kisses along the line of Jesse's collarbones, then moved further to circle the left nipple with his tongue, sucking, biting gently. Jesse, gasping, arched into him, a beautiful wax statue, perfect to mould, to form with the simplest touches. Irresistible.

Though, the kitchen wasn't quite the right place for this, was it?

Walt pulled away to look at Jesse, the former white skin flushed, lips red and swollen and quivering, slightly parted as if itching to say something and it was nice to think that he was fighting the urge to beg for more. Begrudgingly, Walt let go of Jesse, only placing a hand at his lower back to keep him from falling.

"We should go upstairs, don't you think?"

There was a spark of confusion in Jesse's gaze as he climbed off his lap with trembling limbs, wavering in his struggle to keep balance. Walt hurried to get up as well, not wanting to lose time that would be much better spent embracing Jesse.

He took his hand, feeling the racing pulse at his wrist, making him follow him and Jesse didn't hesitate but stumbled after him.

It was only when they approached the double bed, white blankets still slightly dishevelled from the night before, that Jesse stopped in his track. Momentum made his wrist crack as Walter was forced to come to a halt. He could feel him wince, out of pain, surely, even though a quiet part of him was wondering if it was because of something else.

"Yo, Mr. White, you, uh, don't want to.. to..."

Walt turned around. However, Jesse wasn't looking at him but at the bed, eyes trained on the spot right where the pillows met like lilac clouds, unblinking and focused as if he were trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

"Fuck you hard until you can't walk for days? The answer's yes."

Jesse visibly tensed up, back straightening and breath hitching. Walt could see the bulge in his jeans, could see that he was hard, too, could see how beautifully he was struggling with the fact. Jesse inhaled shakily, a hand rubbing his chin and nose, jaw working. "Uh, I'm... not sure if.. you've never done this before, have you? Maybe, eh... maybe we could..."

"Jesse, listen to me." Walt walked over to pull him against his chest, the small frame fitting so perfectly into his arms. He let his lips graze his earlobe, lightly kissing it while holding him close, keeping him from running away. But he wouldn't do that anyway, would he?

"I want to help you but I can only do that if you let me. I want to make you feel good. I made you breakfast, gave you clothes and money, didn't I? I'm helping you, Jesse. You need me. You'll be fine, I promise. Do you understand, Jesse?"

A kiss to the dip just below his ear, fingertips running gentle circles on his stomach.

"Y-yes."

"Good. Do you want me to continue?"

He could see his eyes fall shut, golden lashes catching the sun rays sneaking through the gaps between the curtains and shimmering like pure gold. A shuddering inhale, loud in the house's silence, and Walt knew what Jesse's answer would be. Though, there really was only one answer, wasn't there?

A nod.

Walt smiled.

"Don't tell me you've never thought about this...," he whispered into Jesse's ear before hooking two fingers into his pants, pulling them down with a confidence that could only come from experience. Jesse was squirming slightly but froze when Walt curled a hand around his half-exposed member.

"_Fuck_...," Jesse muttered under his panting breaths, a tremor running through his body that made him press closer to Walt, seeking _his_ body, seeking _his_ touch, if only subconsciously. What an impeccable situation, what a beautiful, beautiful boy.

His own erection was straining his trousers, twitching every time Jesse's warm body pushed against it, the soft muscles of his legs and button. Tingling waves surged through his blood as if trying to drown him. Walt wanted to moan, melt into the pleasure the friction gave, but listening to the sweet noises Jesse was making as he was stroking him was too good to pass up on.

He could feel him shivering, hard cock leaking pre-come that made it easy to slide his fingers along the base, circling the tip, then cupping his balls with gentle but solid movements. Jesse soon was rocking against him even more, hips jerking mindlessly.

Until Walt pulled his hand away.

"F-fuck, don't stop... please, Mr. White, I..." Jesse's voice was on the verge of crying, quivering syllables tainted by suppressed arousal. It would have been easy to give him what he wanted. He would certainly look stunning too, with that expression of utter bliss while succumbing to the unravelling heat. However, Walt also liked the helpless, frustrated tremble of his lips, the way his hands were clutching him as if he were the only constant in his life. The only thing necessary to have. The only thing he needed and would ever need. His partner.

Walt petted his hair, fingers raking through strands that were still slightly wet from the shower and sweat. When he pulled his head back, Jesse let out a groan, wincing, but he would listen. He always listened. "You come with my dick inside your ass or don't come at all. Simple as that, Jesse."

"Go... fuck yourself! Prick."

Walt snorted. "You're all bark but no bite. I know you. I know you're aching to be fucked by your old teacher."

He kissed his shoulder, teeth grazing the pale, taunt skin, while working on opening his own trousers. "No use trying to hide it."

Jesse somehow managed to tense up and shudder at the same time, eyes wide but veiled by shadows as his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips, slowly, a picture of pure sin. He didn't move, he didn't reply, and that was answer enough.

It was easy to grasp his arms, to turn him around, to push him onto the mattress, naked body so beautifully exposed, blue eyes so beautifully shying away from Walt's admiring gaze.

It was easy to grab the bottle of lube standing on the nightstand, using the time Jesse spent furiously blushing to squeeze the appropriate amount onto his palm, slicking his fingers up. He didn't want to hurt him after all, no matter how much Jesse would deserve punishment every now and then.

Mind dizzy with desire, though, he didn't spend much time on preparation, ignoring Jesse's gasps and thrusting two fingers into him at once, only scissoring them a few times.

"Does..., ah, does that really... wo-ah, _fuck_..."

Instead of an answer Walt pushed forward, at first only burying the head of his cock in Jesse's tight hole, then pulling back and going all in. Jesse cried out, but he moaned, too, a trembling, writhing mess.

Grasping his chin to kiss him, to press their bodies even closer together, Walt could feel their hearts beating in the same accelerated rhythm, for a colourful moment one and the same. Walt wanted to move with caution but the whirlwind of pleasure made him throw away every logical thought. He picked up the pace and Jesse had to go along with it.

Approaching his climax, he placed his hand on Jesse's erection again, still hard and throbbing, stroking him with much less steadier motions. A moan. Did it even matter who it belonged to?

When Walt came, only his clenched jaw kept him from calling out Jesse's name and a part of him was glad because he might not have been able to live with himself afterwards of he had done so. He flew and fell, thunder roaring and shaking his body for a fleeing eternity, then bliss, relief, a second of nothingness.

Realisation.

It might have been ten minutes or ten years that passed in a silence that wasn't really a silence if you considered the stuttering breaths of both Jesse and him. That wasn't really a silence if you considered those yelling thoughts inside his head, spinning like merry-go-rounds, too loud too soon.

Walt lay next to Jesse, eyes fixed on the mundane white paint of the ceiling, listening to his own heartbeat calm down. Perhaps listening to Jesse's, too.

A silly part of him wanted to reach out, to take his oh so small hand, to reassuringly squeeze it, maybe caress the skin. Jesse was struggling through so much, had seen so many unspeakable things and Walter wasn't going light on him either. He had been _crying_, for God's sake!

Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if it wouldn't have been better if they had never met again at all.

Though, he couldn't help but want him either, ever since they had first started cooking. Maybe even before. Didn't make it the right thing to do, though. But what was making a thing right or wrong anyway?

Walt opened his mouth but he didn't get to say whatever words were waiting to be spoken. Later he wouldn't even remember them.

There were footsteps making the stairs crack like fallen twigs in autumn.

Footsteps that shouldn't be heard, breaking a silence that should have stayed as such, because they could mean only one thing. Someone was here. Someone was coming. Someone would discover Jesse in this room, in this bed, _Jesse_-

"Jesse!," Walter hissed as urgently as he could without raising his voice. He pushed himself off the mattress, reaching for his trousers with hands that were too shaky, too sweaty to get a good grip. Dammit. "Get up. You need to leave. You-"

"Walt?!"

_Skyler_, he mouthed, unable to gather the strength to speak, splitter of ice piercing his veins. When he turned to the bed, Jesse hadn't miraculously disappeared.

"Y-your... _wife_?!" Jesse's eyes were round and blue and narrowing by the minute, a troubled sea inside the paleness of his face. It was surely an attempt to mask the fear with anger as he always did and, as always, it wasn't helping the situation at all. "You didn't even bother checking-"

"_Shut up_."

"Is this some kind of crazy fetish of yours? Because if so, I don't want to be no part of it, yo." Jesse shook his head while struggling with pulling the pants to his hips, voice just raspy enough to be a reminder of what had happened in this room mere minutes ago. "Where's... of, _fuck_."

Walt grasped Jesse's wrist, tugging to make him stumble forwards until he could grab his shoulders and glare straight into the nervously blinking eyes, dilating pupils glimmering with past tears and twirling emotions. In that moment he looked just as young as he was. Maybe even younger.

In that moment Walt didn't care.

"Do I have to spell it out to you? Be _quiet_. And hurry up and get dressed."

"...the shirt, Mr. White. It's, uh... downstairs."

This couldn't be happening, could it?

Walt wanted to press a hand to his temple, soothing the upcoming headache away, but there was no time for that. No time at all, as it turned out to be.

"Walt, I've found your old shirt lying- _oh_."

Perhaps Jesse wasn't the only one dealing with the worst day of his life.

Walt let go of Jesse as if he had burned himself, heart skipping a beat, mind reeling. Jesse was looking at him with that utterly helpless gaze of a student that couldn't grasp the material, that had reached a point of unwavering despair, putting all his hope in the teacher's last explanation.

Walt might have found that gaze adorable, flattering even, but that was before he had to explain his estranged wife that she certainly had _not_ discovered his former student and him in flagrante.

"Jesse... Pinkman? Jesse Pinkman."

"Ah, Skyler, good to see you back again. I was just about to give Jesse a dry shirt. We... were talking and drinking and, guess what, one small push to the wrong side and the bottle of beer is all over his clothes! Terrible accident... truly unfortunate."

"Y-yeah. Mr. White was so nice to lend me his, well, eh... thanks again..."

Skylet didn't believe him but she smiled and nodded and pretended not to know the truth.

Sometimes she even managed to fool herself.


End file.
